


To Blame

by Ultimatum



Series: Recovery in Parts [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: (mostly reference to past ED), Anxiety Attacks, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Insecurity, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-31 01:19:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12665343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultimatum/pseuds/Ultimatum
Summary: To Prompto, it's simple. He got drunk. He had sex.So it's his fault.Trouble is, his friends don't quite agree with him.





	To Blame

**Author's Note:**

> hey! Thisll be part of a series, so watch out for it i guess? i want to make a whole thing of promptos recovery, and eventually make it into an OT4 thing? We'll see
> 
> but yeah beware the tags. thanks for reading!

Prompto has never hurt this much before in his life. He comes to, slowly, like he's being pulled from a nice and long dream. Except he doesn't remember... Dreaming. Or much of anything, really. 

The first thing he notices is that his bangs are sticky with something unidentifiable. Next, that his entire face is covered with dried up... Something. A hand tightens around his waist possessively, keeping him close, and something in him _shifts_ , and the pieces all fall into place.

Then come the tears.

 _Oh Gods_ , he thinks, chest suddenly heavy with the weight of reality coming down the crush him. He thinks for a second that maybe he really is just dreaming, or that he imagined everything that happened last night, but. No. He's here, and there's a man in the bed with him, and there are other noises throughout the room to clue him in that, yes, there are other men sleeping soundly too. As if they hadn't...

Prompto's thoughts peter out and he shoves a hand up to his face to muffle any noise he fears he'll make. Last night...

The body next to him moves, the fingers start stroking up and down his exposed, naked back, and Prompto feels every hair on his body stand up on end. _Nononononono I can't do this, I can't do this._ He debates getting up and running, but there are. Other. Men in the room and they're strong enough to--

His mind feels dizzy with the sudden memories that barrel into him. He's bent over, he's being touched, there's hot panting directly into the shell of his ear, harsh grunts and-

Nope. Enough of that. No more thinking about it. 

Before he can think further on how to escape without anyone else noticing his absence, the man beside him starts to yawn, and the decision is made for him, as seems to be the... Norm with these men.

"Mmm," is all the man voices, putting his wet lips directly to Prompto's neck before inhaling. It makes Prompto shiver, and the other man seems to take that as an incentive to creep his fingers to this thighs to touch him more.

Prompto must squeak, or move weird, or do something else he shouldn't have done, because he's suddenly shoved backwards, and the man's not touching him anymore. Prompto's relief is so tremendous that he barely even considers the possibility of bolting away as fast as possible in the opposite direction. The man checks his phone on the nightstand, clucking his tongue at what he sees, but all that Prompto can see for himself, or really pay attention to, is the man's bare chest, the same chest that probably hunkered down over him last night and

Ok no, no thinking about that.

The other men are roused slowly, and Prompto suddenly feels very small, very vulnerable, and very scared. These people are all big, muscular. Unlike him and his stringy body, these men have Gladio Physiques. That is to say, they're ripped. Still feeling sticky and used, Promtpo reminds himself again that running might not be the best idea, especially if they plan on doing anything else to him. It'd probably be best to ride it out. 

He's beckoned to the man's kitchen, and a few men slap his ass as he passes, a crude and mocking touch in comparison to the joking ass slaps he'd give Noct whenever things got funny or amusing. There are passing comments made to him, that he's a good fuck, that they're lucky he got so wasted at the bar last night, that he was tight, that his bleeding was sexy, that--

He's still naked. He tries not to think too hard about it as he looks for his clothes.

Prompto finds them by the door after some hunting, and though he can't remember them being taken off, he remembers the feeling of them being ripped straight off him. He tries to consider it a small mercy that his clothes aren't actually ripped, though. It'd be pretty hard to get home otherwise.

In his pocket, his phone is stashed away, and when he checks it, he's not surprised that there are no notifications to be seen. A part of him feels that there should be worried texts from his friends, asking where he is, if he's okay, but he went to the bar alone last night. He just had wanted to unwind, maybe talk up some girls or some guys. Take his mind off things.

The last thing he thought to do was tell his three friends where he was going. The last thing he expected was to be gang-banged by five dudes. 

But, y'know.

Because no one stops him, and because everyone seems done with him, Prompto excuses himself to the bathroom to wash his face off, and the image he sees in the mirror both shocks and disturbs him. There's cum dried up near his eyes, and his face is greasy with how much sweat and... Other things were put on him last night. The sight of his own reflection, however, sends his entire body into a fit of tremors, and he has to shove half of his fist into his mouth to silence the whimper threatening to come out. Fuck. Fuck. It happened. It's over with.

 _Just get cleaned up, then you can go home and pretend that this never fucking happened_. 

So he does, pointedly ignoring the dried blood crusted around his ass, even as his very bones shake, and when he says goodbye to the men who raped him not even a few hours ago, they all wave him goodbye, smiling, happy, calm. He can hardly believe that these were the same men slapping him and calling him a slut, the same men who

He whistles a little meaningless tune to himself and sends a text out to Noct. 

**Dude I'm like. Getting sick I think. So if I drop off the grid assume I'm dead >-<**

Noct's reply is instant, and Prompto nearly smiles, imagining Noct scrolling lazily through his phone in bed all morning while Ignis tries in vain to get him up. He thinks of Noct sleeping soundly while he was being violated, but soon shoves that thought away.

**Royal pain in the ass ;): melodrama, melodrama.**

**Fiiiine. But when I die, it's gonna be on you for not believing ur Poor Friend Prompto**

Prompto looks around for street names before giving up and pulling up Moogle Maps on his phone. He's over 20 miles away from home, and he nearly groans. Great. Just his luck.

The trip over to the bus stop, Prompto thinks, is some of the most painful walking he's ever done, and that includes every post-workout ache of his life combined. He can't find it in himself to check his phone until he gets home, too tired to read, too tired to think. He spends his trip resolutely staring at the wall opposite to him, pretending he can't feel phantom fingers running over the expanse of his whole body. No siree.

He forces some pep into his step as he climbs the stairs to his lonely little apartment. He's been able to keep it for himself with the money he's earned from his paid photography internship, which makes his chest swell with pride, usually, even though the other guys absolutely hate his living conditions. Now, however, the silence hits him hard. With no one around to see him or to judge him, he lets himself curl up under the showerhead in his dingy, moldy bathroom. 

When he tugs on his hair, he can only feel their fingers gripping at him.

That makes him pull tighter, but in fear or self-hatred, he isn't too sure.

\---

The next few days, he stays mostly to himself, trying to coach himself back into the persona he's worked so hard to keep going. Smile. Smile. Don't remember. Don't think too hard. _I was drunk, what did I think was going to happen? I went with them, I went with them, I went with them._ Don't, under any circumstances, stare too hard at Noct and Iggy and Gladio's contacts. He can't tell them. No one can ever know he let five people have sex with him because he was too inebriated to fight back.

That thought, in particular, sends a wrench into his mood. All this time, all this effort he's put into getting stronger, and for what? What would Gladio say to him if he found out? He'd be... He'd be disappointed.

And rightfully so. Prompto has never hated himself more for his weakness.

Eventually, though, he can't hide out from the world any longer. The bruises on his neck from those sloppy mouths are covered by the lapels of his jacket, and he can mostly walk without crying, so he thinks that's an A+ for him and a sign that it's really, really time to stop moping. So he texts Noct that he's coming over to play video games, smiles at himself a few times in the mirror to convince himself that he can DO this, and skips to Noct's flat with the most energy he can muster in his aching, tired body.

And, well, maybe it isn't working too well, because the first thing Noct says when he opens the door is: "Wow, you look like shit."

Prompto feels his grin crease awkwardly, but laughs sheepishly all the same. "Ha, yeah man. I can't believe you'd just leave me to die of a fever like that."

"Well. I'm glad you're not sick anymore. Kinda sucks when you're not here. Specs nags me more."

"Noctis! I can hear you," Ignis protests from the kitchen, all false annoyance and ire. Prompto laughs for real this time, though it feels odd and his chest is still strangely heavy.

"Oh, dude!" Noctis grabs him by the arm and tugs him inside. Prompto does his best not to squirm. "I just got the new DLC, wanna play it?"

"If you're prepared to _lose_ ," Prompto teases, waggling his eyebrows. He hopes if he acts stupid enough, he'll go back to the person he was not even a week ago. So naive and stupid. And blissfully unaware.

"You're on, dweeb." Noctis shoves him and makes for the living room, Prompto hot on his tail. They're laughing, joking, but Prompto feels like he's half out of his body, not really laughing, not really feeling that joy he sees on his friend's face. Inside, he feels like he's still stuck in the bed that changed him.

While they're playing, Ignis comes in with a tray of mini sandwiches ("Really, how bougie can you get?" Prompto tries to joke, but is met with a level glare) and settles on the other couch with a book. Though he mostly stays silent, Ignis clears his throat suddenly. "Prompto. Are you sure you're well? Pardon me, but you look absolutely ghastly."

Prompto's blood turns to ice and he tries to laugh off the sudden discomfort he feels at his wellbeing being made the center of attention. "Well. You know what four days of a temperature can do to you. I'm still kinda exhausted."

"That's apparent."

Prompto laughs again, though it's a tad too thin and shrill. "Okay, okay, Iggy. Enough mother-henning, I'll be chill soon. Promise." Noct and Ignis share a look, and it makes Prompto's chest pound. He doesn't know what they're seeing, but he fears what they'll find if they look too hard at him.

\---

Weeks pass like years, and the bruises fade slowly until the mottled state of his body returns to its previous state. However, Prompto knows that the bags under his eyes are a bit deeper than they were before and that he's starting to lose weight, or muscle mass, or both. He feels like he's withering, and no one can stop it.

It doesn't take an expert to see that he's struggling, though with what, he hopes it isn't obvious. With every worried imploring question from his friends, he insists that it's just stress, it's just a passing thing, he's still sick, etc.

Prompto's chest clenches thinking about what they would do if they found out what. He let happen. Maybe Ignis would decide he wasn't good enough to be friends with the prince anymore, maybe Gladio would be sternly disappointed, and maybe yell at him for being so weak, for wasting his time and training. For wasting his efforts just so he could get taken advantage of.

Dry heaving, Prompto stands suddenly and zooms to the bathroom, where he promptly throws up his food. It feels like he's 12 again, like he has his eating disorder back, like it never left. In a way, it's easy to let everything come back up, and in a way, that makes everything worse.

Ignis shows up at his apartment and sits him down the following day, worry in his eyes, and puts what he probably thinks is a comforting hand on Prompto's shoulder. Instead, it just makes him nauseous, and he keeps painfully still, wound tight and tense.

"Prompto," Ignis says, his eyebrows pinching. "Me and the others have been a little... worried. I'd like you to answer as honestly as possible, if that is alright with you."

Prompto nods, tersely, and he steels himself for the rejection, the hatred. They found out, they found out, they found out.

"Are you... Having food troubles again?"

And. Oh. So that's what they think is up. They think his eating disorder is acting up. That he's relapsing. That's easier to manage, easier to deal with than them finding out he's a slut or something. 

So, because he's desperate for that secret to stay hidden, he nods slowly, and he doesn't miss the way Ignis's eyes water slightly. "Why didn't you tell us sooner? We could have helped you, Prompto."

And oh, here comes the guilt. He grimaces and shrugs slightly. "I dunno." But he does know, and Ignis's words feel sharp against his heart, only aiding his festering self-hatred. He's lying to the people he trusts most, digging his own grave. What kind of person does this make him?

Ignis sighs, and though rationally, Prompto knows he isn't angry, just sad for him, his stomach churns and he nearly shrinks away from the feeling of Ignis's hands on him. He thanks the Astrals when the latter's hands slip off him, and he lets himself sag a bit in relief.

"Prompto. I'm sorry, but I must ask you to stay with me or Noct for a while. It isn't as though I don't trust you, but we certainly need to deal with this before it becomes worse. You understand?" 

He nods, expecting such. They'll want him around to feed him, make sure he's eating, and judge how "bad" he's gotten. Prompto worries his bottom lip, trying not to think about how hard it'll be to hide his... True issues from them. They've done this for him before, surely it won't be any different. He'll be able to hide it. He has to.

But he supposes this is best. Otherwise, they'd know the truth. And they'd get rid of him. He's certain.

Ignis makes a quick call to Noctis, and gestures for him to pack a few essentials before they leave for Noct's apartment. He catches his reflection in the mirror when he's grabbing his toothbrush, all greasy and haggard, and winces. 

No wonder he's been worrying everyone so much. He can't remember the last time he showered.

The sight of his own naked body doesn't really bring him any comfort, so he's avoided it the best he can.

He and Ignis drive in near silence until Ignis breaks it. He rests one of his hands over Prompto's, sighs once more, and speaks. "It'll be alright, Prompto. We'll help in any way we are able. Hopefully, begetting your health."

"Y-yeah. I understand."

The silence continues until they exit and make their way up to Noct's apartment. Noctis is there the moment they knock, throwing open the door and searching Prompto's face for something he can't quite name. 

"Prom."

"Uh. Yeah. Hi buddy."

The response probably isn't satisfactory, because Noctis's mouth straightens out, and his eyes look so endlessly sad and protective that it nearly pierces straight through Prompto's resolve. It's not fair that Noct is worrying about him, thinking his eating disorder is flaring again, when the truth is so much more pathetic, and so less deserving of his compassion and care. He isn't falling back into a tragic disorder, he's just being dramatic over sex he asked for. Wasn't rape, wasn't rape, wasn't--

He blinks and realizes that they're still both looking at him, expecting an answer. His palms go clammy and he swallows. "S-sorry. Did you guys say something?"

"I was merely asking if you'd like me to make you some dinner." Ignis supplies, trying his best for a neutral tone of voice. But it's a loaded question, and he can tell. Prompto feels too sick it eat, but he nods anyway.

"Wonderful. I'll make myself scarce for a bit, then."

And Ignis goes, leaving only Noctis and Prompto standing in the hall. Noct seems to school his expression into something nonchalant, but Prompto can still tell that he's upset. Before he can stop himself, he says "Sorry," though for what, exactly, he isn't sure.

"It-" Noct stops, considering his words, and seems to settle on: "No need to. Everything'll be fine, right? Wanna go play video games?"

Prompto finds himself nodding again, depositing his bag of stuff by the door before following his friend further into his home. Eat some meals, act like normal, and they'd be none the wiser. It'll be easy. He always trusts Noct to distract him when he needs it.

After a while of playing, the door opens again, and Gladio comes in. Prompto realizes that this is the first time he's seen Gladio in a good while. Actually, since the incident. And the first thought he has is of pure, primal fear.

Gladio is big. Gladio is strong. Strong. Big. Can't run, can't get away, won't be able to escape, stuck here, stuck here, no way out.

"Hey kid, you doin' okay?"

He takes a deep breath (he's proud it only shutters a bit on the way out) and grins as best as he can. "Getting there!"

Gladio grunts in response. The noise sends him reeling and the breath escapes his lungs. Just like, just like, just like-- 

"You kinda look like shit," he continues, and when Ignis makes a disapproving noise from the kitchen he tacks on a "no offense."

"Well," Prompto says, pausing to lick his chapped lips. "You know how it is."

Gladio hums, seems a bit sadder, and takes a seat. "Yeah. Guess I do."

There isn't much talking after that. Prompto blames himself for the awkwardness.

He really needs to learn when to keep his big mouth shut.

\---

Prompto ends up staying at Noct's for a full week, and by the time he's cleared by Ignis to at least _sleep_ at his own home (he's going to have meals at Noct's for a while) he's had to hide nightmares, anxiety attacks, and a few instances of puking from them. It's... exhausting, to say the least. 

At one point, Gladio had called him Blondie, as he tended to, and Prompto immediately excused himself to the bathroom to cry his eyes out. The moment the door had closed behind him, he couldn't stop, and by the time he returned to them, he knew his eyes were puffy and red, but no one commented if they noticed, and that made him more grateful than he could quantify. 

But he's glad to go home after a week of acting like he's fine. Being watched while he ate and monitored like he was about to go do something irrational was tiring, to say the least, and sleeping in his own dirty bed would feel great. Oh, and his job. Maybe he'd talk to Vyv soon... He needed more money for rent, after all.

Gladio had even invited him to resume training, which he was both excited and nervous for. After all, it had been almost a month since... That. Had happened. And even longer, maybe two, since he'd truly gone head-to-head with Gladio for a spar. 

Some nagging fear in the back of his mind reminds him that it's a horrible idea to put himself in a position where he'd be forced to touch, or at least come into contact, with the big guy. After all, sometimes even seeing him iss hard. His body is the same shape as the mens', and even having Gladio behind him and feeling his presence is enough to send him into panicked gasping.

Prompto agreed to the invitation despite this. The world wasn't going to stop moving just because he'd fucked some dudes, or... Been fucked by them. He needed to move on, weeks had passed, it was time to keep living and stop moping over something that was completely his fault. So he was ready to spar with Gladio again, even if it hurt. He'd get better. He would.

He's at Noct's, eating some dinner that Ignis had cooked up, only a few days before he's due to train with Gladio again, when they start to prod at him.

Ignis takes off his gloves slowly and deliberately, setting them down beside his plate at the table. He seems to consider his words before glancing up at Prompto. "I feel it imperative, before we go any further, to discuss something."

"Something?" Prompto parrots back. He's fairly confident this time that they haven't figured him out, but the vagueness still spikes his anxiety, sends his hands shaking. 

Ignis nods, and Noctis keeps quiet, poking at the broccoli on his plate. "Something must have... Triggered this relapse. Do you have any idea as to what that might have been? It may help us prevent any future slips."

It makes sense, of course it does, but Prompto still feels sick at the thought of explaining _why_ he had been looking so terrible. Yeah, Iggy, I wasn't eating because every time I swallowed, all I could feel were the dicks in my mouth, totally a good thing to bring up.

He shrugs and looks to the side, coming up with the fastest lie of his life. "I've been kinda stressed, y'know? I have some photos due soon and I guess the deadline crept up on me. The stress kinda got me sick, and then, the food stuff."

Well, it's not exactly a lie after all. He is stressed. More guilty than stressed, but still stressed nonetheless. 

Ignis raises an eyebrow, and Prompto can tell instantly that he doesn't really believe him. He's about to shrink back in shame when Noct speaks up, hope creeping into his voice. "So... We just practice some stress relieving techniques? Help you plan for deadlines so they don't creep up on you again?"

The childish hope in Noct's voice makes Prompto giggle a bit. "Dude, I'm an adult, I can plan stuff myself. But... That'd be nice."

He can't believe he got friends this thoughtful and kind. He can't believe they're so willing to deal with his hangups.

It makes his throat feel tight, but in a good way, and he almost forgets what the truth of his stress stems from.

Ignis doesn't voice the doubt Prompto know's he feels. Instead, he settles for a "Quite a good idea, Noct." and they resume eating, chattering back and forth about small meaningless things that Prompto now feels detached from. Othered from. He's not the same man they remember, but they don't know that.

But when Noct laughs at him for spilling his water, and Ignis snorts in amusement, a part of him is dragged back into his body, and he remembers that he doesn't deserve this, but he wants to. He wants to. So desperately. So desperately that he'd go to any length to hide this secret, to keep them from leaving him. So he keeps laughing, keeps joking, even though he feels phantom hands over his body, words in his ears.

He's lied about a bunch of stuff in his life. What's one more lie?

\---

He meets Gladio inside the training room and sees the man doing a few stretches on the floor. He looks up at Prompto, quirks a smile, and rises. "Hey, squirt."

"Hey, behemoth." Prompto grins back, glad for the familiar teasing. He's careful to not get too close to Gladio, though, afraid that his anxiety will overtake his rationality if he feels that big chest near him. 

Gladio tosses a sword back and forth in his hands, all graceful strength and power. "You ready to get your ass beat, smallfry?"

"Hey, dude, isn't that unfair? I'm like, weak as shit now."

"Only one way to fix that." Gladio snorts, but he's smiling, and something in Prompto's chest uncoils slightly.

"Fine, fine, but go a little easy on me."

"No way. You stretch yet?" Prompto nods, and Gladio's grin turns cocky as he lunges for Prompto, who holds a cap gun at the ready. 

Prompto tries to get out of Gladio's range, knowing the man is attempting to get close to him to reduce his mobility, but he's too slow. Apparently, weeks of a bad diet, no sleep, and no exercise will do that to you. Gladio shoves his arm aside, pushing his gun from the aim he held, and Prompto feels the panic itch at his throat before he can name the sensation.

He trips backward and lands on his back, Gladio following him with a playful smile. Fingers loop around his wrists and something stalls in him, like he can't decide what's actually happening, or where he is. His eyes go wide, but Gladio must read his expression as something far more innocent, because his fingers squeeze around and tighten and there's laughing and

_Prompto is being held down, wrists tied, fucked hard, grunting, panting, hands roaming, can't escape, can't escape, can't escape, please stop, please stop, please stop, no more, I'm sorry, get out_

"Please please pleasepleasepleaseplease," He's sobbing, staring up at Gladio but not at him, but something else that doesn't seem to be there. Someone else who isn't there. Gladio freezes the moment he sees the tears and lets go of Prompto, hops off him as fast as he can.

"Prompto, what's wrong?" But the only thing that answers him is Prompto gripping his hair, curling up into a ball on the floor, and rocking himself as he shakes through his attack, muttering pleas under his breath that make Gladio feel properly panicked for the first time in a good long while.

He takes out his phone and finds that his fingers shake as he dials the number of the one man he trusts to deal with this, because he as sure as hell can't. It's somehow his fault, he set Prompto off, and now the poor guy is falling apart right beside him.

"Hey, Iggy? Can you come over?"

"What was that? Where are you?"

"Training room. I- I don't know what happened. I touched Prompto and. He's. Yeah. I don't know what I did, but kid's having a fucking meltdown."

There's a quick second of tense silent before Ignis says, "I will be there shortly," and hangs up. 

As he waits, Gladio feels dread creep into him. What the fuck is going on to have Prompto freak out like this? He's acting like... Someone hurt him. Badly. And he was expecting Gladio to hurt him too.

Gladio isn't stupid, and the anger that burns through his veins is just barely checked in time for Ignis to show up. He hopes that Iggy can help. In a fit of anger at himself for being so useless when Prompto needs him most, he drives his fist into the wall, satisfied when pain tingles up through his arm.

\---

Prompto's stuck, he's hurting, he's so confused because he drank more than he should have, and the faces he sees above him, the cocks all pressing against his face, everything is so blurry. But the fear is sharp and clear, and he cries earnestly, hyperventilating with every intake of breath.

All he's good for, all he's worth, and he'll never--

There's a calm hushing noise, an uncharacteristically soft voice near him. It isn't calling him names, it isn't scorning him, and that's what confuses him most. He tries to listen in, to piece together what this man is saying amidst such violence and degradation. 

"-mpto, you are safe. You are here with me, Ignis, and Gladio. No one is here other than us. You are-"

Safe? He's safe? And he's with... Gladio and Ignis? But that would mean that Gladio and Ignis were fucking him too, and though he always had kinda fantasized about that, it makes him moan in sadness through his tears. He isn't safe, his friends are hurting him too, and his wrists still feel leaden and weighed down.

He feels his mouth form the word "no" over and over again, and Ignis's soft voice continues.

"Yes. You are safe. You aren't being hurt right now, can you match my breathing, dear Prompto? Everything will be alright, you are safe."

And he tries, gods does he try, he doesn't want to disappoint Iggy, he doesn't want to fail him, so he tries. And eventually, pieces slowly come back together as his breathing falls back into pace. Hot shame burns all over him as soon as he fully realizes what had happened, however.

He had a major fucking meltdown just because Gladio touched him. Right in front of him, no less.

Tears of humiliation replace the tears of terror, and he covers his face with his hand as he sits up.

Ignis's voice sounds off beside him, but he can't bear to look at the man, who's probably... Probably disgusted. And angry that he had to deal with Prompto acting like a child. "Are you alright? Feeling better?" When he doesn't respond or move his hand, Ignis's voice directs to Gladio: "Get him some water."

Prompto forces himself to stand on unsteady legs. His knees wobble underneath him, and without looking, he can tell Ignis is worriedly hovering beside him, though he can't fathom why he's bothering with a guy like him anymore. He tries to run, to leave, to hide, but his knees give out and he ends up back on the floor as he bites back a sob.

"Prompto." Ignis's voice is heartbroken, torn, and it's his fault, his fault. "Prompto please."

"I'm sorry," Prompto says, wobbly and quivering. He feels like he's on a ledge overlooking a deep canyon, and the wind is tipping him over. He falls. He dies. He deserves it. " _Please, I'm sorry_."

"Shhh, shhh Prompto. Let us get you home, no apologies, you're okay."

Gladio comes back with water, but he doesn't drink any, still hiding his face resolutely in his hands. He doesn't understand. It isn't okay, can't they see what he's done? How treacherous his body is, how rotten he is as a person? Ignis helps him stand and he's led back to his apartment in silence. But he knows, he knows, the anger and disappointment are there. And if not, he resolves to finally tell them what he _did_ and hopefully, they'll leave him alone, abandon him like they should have from the start.

He's walked to his bed, where he immediately goes under the covers to hide further. Ignis stares at him for a moment.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

Would he? No. Should he? Yes. He's choosing between what he wants and what he is obligated to do, and it hurts.

"I..." Prompto closes his eyes. "Yeah. But get Noct over here too. He needs to hear it at the same time. From me."

"If you are uncomfortable-"

"No. Please Iggy, before I change my mind." Before my resolve crumbles, he thinks.

Noct is called, and he shows up sooner than Prompto expects. Anxiety twists and pulls at him at what he knows is to come, but it's for the best. He's removing his toxic presence from them at last, and he knows that's the least he can do after burdening them this long.

"Prompto!" Noct heaves, immediately at his side. "I heard you... Are you okay?" His face is so worried, so genuine, and it makes Prompto's eyes water. This is probably the last time he'll ever be looked at in that favorable way. He cherishes it.

"I need to tell you guys something."

Noct grabs at his hand, and though his skin crawls, the warmth grounds him, and he burns the feeling of Noct's fingers in his into his brain. "Anything," Noct swears. "You can tell us anything."

He takes a deep breath. "I."

The words are hard to get out. Knowing that this is it, that they'll leave him after this, is almost too much to bear. But he has to, so he forces the words out. "It happened a few weeks ago."

Ignis makes a small noise to show he's listening. Gladio's staring at him intently, his eyebrows creased deep.

All of a sudden, it pours out of him like flood water breaking through a dam. "I went and got drunk at a bar, and these guys asked me to come home with one of them. And- and I said yes, and I was so _stupid_ because they all... They all had sex with me, but it _hurt_ and I couldn't stop them, and, and, I can't get over it, it's so fucking dumb. I was stupid enough to get drunk and too weak to even fend them off. And after all this time, I still can't stop feeling... Them. I haven't gotten over it, even after all this time, and I don't know why I'm like this. I'm so sorry."

Prompto turns to Gladio, tears starting again. He scoffs at himself even as the sobs increase. "I'm sorry, after everything you taught me, I couldn't- I couldn't _stop_ it, this is all my fault and I just-- You guys, I'm so sorry."

This is it. He told them. Now, they're going to reject him, abandon him, tell him he's not good enough to be associated with the prince. And they'd be right. If he was nothing before, he's worse now. 

Gladio's rage is the first thing he feels. "What the _fuck_ Prompto, that's not-"

"Gladio," Ignis hisses in warning.

"No! No fucking way. Are you hearing this?"

"You're scaring him!"

"He fucking-"

"Both of you, shut up," Noctis warns, his expression tight and sad in all the wrong ways. This is it, he's going to be like. Exiled forever. Prompto closes his eyes. "Prompto."

"I'm sorry, Noct. I'm not... I'm not strong, or good enough, like you say, or-"

"No. Prompto. Look at me."

He tries, he does, but Noct's eyes burn to look into, so he has to look away.

"That wasn't your fault."

He scoffs again, this time in disbelief, and Gladio joins in and adds: "Yeah. That's called _rape_ Prompto."

"I wasn't raped," Prompto states vehemently, shocked at how much venom his words hold.

Ignis lays a comforting hand on his arm, by Noct's, who still hasn't let go, and if anything, has tightened his hold. "Being persuaded under the influence is not consent. Regardless, you were not in the right state of mind to partake in sex, and your... Attackers should have known better. Shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that."

"Guys," Prompto tries, but his rebuttal dies in his throat. Gladio stills looks furious, so he shies away.

"Prom, please," Noctis tries again, pleadingly. "You aren't any of the things you called yourself. You're our friend and... And we're so fucking sorry you went through this alone."

"But. It's not even that serious."

"I'd say otherwise. Is this what _actually_ caused your little relapse the other week ago?" Ignis is frowning, and Prompto loathes that he was the one to put that look on his face. He thought that stunt would have prevented this. But he fucked that up too.

Prompto nods sheepishly. "But really, it's fine, okay? Other people have it worse, it's not like I was kidnapped or tortured-"

This time, it's Gladio who scoffs. "It doesn't make a difference if you drown in a puddle or in the ocean. It's still fucking drowning, Prompto."

His mouth goes dry and he grimaces. But Gladio still has more to say. "And don't ever let me catch you apologizing for this shit ever again, you hear me? You can't control these things, you can't prevent them, no amount of training can change that."

Ignis hums in agreement. "And, regardless, it seems this was a very traumatic experience Prompto. I agree with Noct's sentiment. I truly apologize we weren't here to help you more. If anyone is to blame, it is us for not noticing that something more was amiss sooner."

Prompto's eyes water and he bites his lip to keep from sobbing again. He just needs to check, he needs to know for sure. "So you guys don't hate me for letting that happen?"

Gladio's voice rises in volume so suddenly that he flinches from the noise. "You didn't let that happen Prompto! Fuck!"

"You're not helping, Gladio."

"I'm sorry," Prompto wheezes out, feeling stupid for making this such a debacle. He's upset Gladio, he's upset Ignis, he's upset Noctis. He's fucked it all up with his stupid emotions. 

Noct's voice is thick with emotion when he speaks. "We couldn't hate you if we tried. _I_ couldn't hate you if I tried. And I don't know how many times we'll have to say it, but it wasn't your fault Prom. You didn't deserve what those bastards did to you, and I'll tell you that as many times as it takes for you to believe it."

Rape. They think he was raped. And. Maybe. Maybe maybe that might have been what happened. It hurt. It hurt so much. "It hurt so much," Prompto wails, all restraint dissipating. "I- It hurt so much and I couldn't stop them."

A tear slips down Noct's cheek, and he doesn't bother to wipe it away. "Can I hug you, Prompto?" 

He shrugs, resigned to whatever they decide for him, but Ignis says, "No, it's a legitimate question. Do you _wish_ t be hugged right now? You may say no, it's alright."

And so, Prompto shakes his head no as he shakes from the force of his breathing, and is amazed when no one forces him into it anyway. After he feels safe enough to speak, he adds: "Maybe in a bit though."

They all consent to this, and Gladio sighs suddenly, sitting down at the end of his bed. "Sorry for getting so pissed, earlier. It just makes me angry that you believe that crap about yourself."

"But... Shouldn't I? I mean-"

"No." Gladio cuts him off sharply, leaving no room for disagreement. "The only people at fault here are those dicks who did this. Just give me the names and I'll kill each and every one of them."

Prompto can't help but smile a bit, even as he keeps crying. "You'd do that for me?"

"Without hesitation."

There are a few minutes of silence as Prompto sheds the last of his tears, crying himself to exhaustion. Once he physically can't cry anymore, and his mind feels shaken and sore, he sniffs. "I'd like that hug now. If it's 'kay."

And they're all on him in an instant, all tender arms and gentleness. Noctis is close against his chest, Ignis to his side, and Gladio holding them all together like glue. Prompto almost wants to cry again.

He was raped. He was hurt. But his friends don't hate him.

He doesn't know if he'll ever be the same, but at least he has this. And maybe that's enough for now.


End file.
